


In the Desert (You Can Remember Your Name)

by anneapocalypse



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3637302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anneapocalypse/pseuds/anneapocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain.</i>
</p><p>Turns out, South can think of one think she wants more than an AI.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Desert (You Can Remember Your Name)

**Author's Note:**

> An RvB Happy Hour fic for [tired-angry-robot](http://tired-angry-robot.tumblr.com), who asked for South and “found” and [yourfacehasablog](http://yourfacehasablog.tumblr.com) who asked for South/CT and a kiss.

It’s fucking deadly hot and South is pretty sure half the cooling fans in her armor have shorted out by the time the temple wavers on the horizon. Probably shouldn’t even count on it being real, but fuck, if she can’t hope for that, might as well lie down and die. The trip would’ve been easier with Delta, and South does feel a small surge of regret that she refused the implantation. Last chance she’ll ever get, probably, and she almost said yes, and then she thought of North and the thought sat in her stomach like it was full of lead.

Fuck no, she said. Fuck this. Fuck all of it.

Do what you want, Wash said coldly. Everyone thinks you’re dead anyway.

Well. They did, didn’t they.

Turns out, she could think of one thing she wanted more than an AI.

 

“Freeze! Don’t come any further!”

“Fat chance of freezing out here,” South snaps over the open channel.

“This is a restricted area.” The voice is a douchey baritone with an irritating reverb and South thinks about just muting it until it adds, “You have entered an active minefield.”

“I don’t give a fuck whose field it is.”

“Yeah, yeah, very funny, asshole. You might want to stop moving.”

South crosses her arms. “You gonna tell me how to get out of here, or am I just supposed to stand around and jill off?”

“Keep your fucking pants on, I’m pulling up the schematic.” There’s a crackling noise. “Okay. Two steps to your left.”

South starts to move.

“Your  _other_  left!”

South winces and lurches back the other way. Sand under the fucking boots is the worst. Never stable and every step drags.

“Okay, three steps forward…”

She lets her breath out in a hiss as she counts out one, two—

“Smaller steps!”

“Oh for  _fuck’s_ sake.”

 

At least the fuckstick on the radio isn’t a hallucination, South’s pretty sure of that. The tinny edge to the transmission is giving her a headache by the time the temple looms up before her in all its shitty glory, wavering in the heat.

South doesn’t waste another minute before stomping up to the entrance and that familiar brown suit of armor, short and square-shouldered and that ridiculous helmet.

She switches to a private channel.

“Turn off that fucking voice mod,” she says. “You sound like a fucking tool.”

CT pulls off her helmet instead, and god, she looks exactly the same except sweatier and her hair’s parted on the wrong side, falling in the wrong eye. Christ. South feels like she could punch someone from sheer relief, months of coiled up rage and fear and her fists clench reflexively, her whole body clenches up with all of it, everything pushing at her memory: Tex’s hard strides onto the Pelican out of Longshore not looking at anyone and Carolina’s clenched jaw and no one fucking saying what happened,  _nothing_ , and then North stepping between her and Tex like  _she_  needed his fucking protection, like any of it was his fucking business—

South tears off her own helmet, throws it in the sand and shoves CT up against the wall just under the archway and kisses her harder than she’s ever kissed anyone in her life and that’s saying something. She doesn’t stop when she tastes copper on Connie’s lips because Connie has her hand around the back of South’s neck before she can blink and is holding her there, holding her in, kissing her back with force to match and South’s mind finally, blissfully blanks out for a minute or two.

It’s a while before they come up for air.

“I knew it,” South hisses through her teeth, barely pulling back from Connie’s mouth, close enough to feel her sharp inhale. “I knew you made it out, you  _bitch_.”

“Yeah, well,” CT bites out, “I knew you would, too.” She slides her tiny hand down South’s chestplate, and her voice softens when she says, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. There was no time.”

“You could’ve found the fucking time.”

“Well, I didn’t and I’m sorry. Would you have listened to me?”

South sighs and sags against her instead of answering, leaning one arm up against the wall behind Connie and resting her forehead on her wrist. So exhausted. So  _hot_.

“You’re heavy,” Connie says gently, shifting under her weight.

“Go to hell,” South says, weakly.

And Connie reaches up to stroke South’s sweaty hair with a tenderness that feel absurd, _stupid_ after everything, after  _everything_ and she swallows hard, throat dry. The anger doesn’t fade but it gets a little blurrier, fuzzy at the edges, the way the temple looks in the heat. She sighs, feeling shaky all the way down, not entirely trusting herself to stay upright if she tries, but she sure’s hell isn’t gonna say that.

“You need some water,” Connie says matter-of-factly, and tips her head up so her nose just brushes under South’s chin. It tickles, a little. South bites down on her lip rather than twitch away and let on that she feels it. That she feels anything. “I’m glad you came.”

“You said ‘water,’” South says thickly.

Connie drags her fingers softly down South’s cheek. “Yeah. Come on. Let’s get inside.”


End file.
